Assimilation
by TarantellaEarth
Summary: There was no such thing as wanting to become one with Mother Russia. After Russia declared his romantic interest, though, China was secretly finding him tolerable. Somewhat. And then somewhat more. RoChu.
1. One

**EDIT, MARCH 2012: JUST ADDING IN SOME MINOR EDITS AND CLEAN-UPS, DON'T MIND ME C: **

Hello there, I've been writing fanfiction for nearly five years now, on a different account, but this is my first real try at yaoi. I've always been too shy to do more than just daydream and publishing this makes me feel all exposed and awkward. :'c

So...this is my first donation to the Hetalia fandom and I hope I don't regret it! I'd like to note that I don't know too much of Russian or Chinese history, so if there are any inaccuracies in that department, I apologize in advance. In fact, I have one small one to apologize for already: I have no idea where the World Meetings are held. In my imagination, the setting switches every couple meetings out of fairness.

I'm also operating under the assumption/theory/blah that the nations are like "demigods" who live in and walk around their homeland like regular people but are by some unknowable means aware of and affected by basically every major political and culture movement within it (and pretty much never age). This is how I picture them in canon. And also, FYI, nations to go other nations' "houses" (their physical countries) by plane, like any other person traveling internationally.

Also I imagine that they miraculously were "born" able to speak at least some English to other countries like themselves. Otherwise how the hell would they all communicate?

And lastly, to "assimilate" something is to merge it with something else. I.e., "to become one with." YEAH.

* * *

Winter could burn.

It burned intangible things like human souls and kindness—so many kinds of literature liked to preach, so many men had proved—and, with a little help from thirty mile-per-hour winds, it could burn skin. Ultimately, the former mattered most, but blinding snow and wind driving into one's face was painful to the point of numbing. China knew he would eventually stop feeling the cold, which despite seeming to be a good thing, was one step closer to freezing to death. And this was no joke in Canadian winter.

Tonight's World Meeting was hosted in one of Canada's largest cities, and one of the most northern. America had warned him the week before about winters in Canada (except for last year's, laughably mild) and how the wind blew into some of his states and made his northern residents shiver. China assured him that he'd been around long enough to know what a cold winter feels like, thank you. But this _hurt. _

The residents here were smart enough to have already gone inside and were probably sitting around fireplaces and heating vents. The streets were empty of everything except concrete and snow and China himself. The perfectly warm military outfit he'd chosen to wear, which had served him well endless times, wasn't doing its job. It felt like Russia's General Winter had flown across the globe just to fuck up the weather especially for him.

'_Almost there…almost there….' _He turned the corner and the next fierce breeze nearly blew him into a lamppost. _'Is that it over there? Thank goodness. Just a few buildings down.' _

His boots crunched lightly through snow and landed on ice buried nearly a foot underneath. Breeze. Hard breeze. Snow in his face. Breeze moving the other way, sweeping China's dark hair over his own face and tearing bits of it out of the ponytail. Ugh.

He swept some little strands out of his mouth, and was suddenly aware of something in front of him blocking a good amount of the wind. China deduced it was probably a mailbox, and then deduced what it actually was. He chose to grab onto it anyway. That is, he reached up and grabbed Russia's shoulder, partially to use him for support and partially to get his attention. "What are you doing? We have to be at the meeting, aru! Your prime minister won't be happy if you skip!"

Russia seemed to pause before turning around. His face was bleak and haunted; to keep his own from cracking with fear, China lifted his head to let the cold numb his face, and was thankful he did when the taller nation's eyes widened and began brightening. Such a thing couldn't be good. This encounter would end fastest with more walking and less talking. "Come with me! We're probably late!" He took a few steps around Russia and saw the light of the Meeting building's lobby turning his arms and torso yellow-gold. In those few steps he also saw that Russia was not following.

'_Be brave. If I can tell America I walked with Russia for an entire block his mouth'll be shut for days.' _

He turned around put out his hand, could feel it wanting to return to his side. The rest of him wanted to climb a lamppost to get away. "Please, come. They can't discuss next year's Olympics without you, aru."

Russia's eyes looked strange under this glow, too bright and not aware enough. But then, he'd faked expressions many times before. He nudged something out of the snow by raising his foot. It was that water pipe that he dragged around with him half the time. He leaned over slightly, hoisted it over his shoulder and came over. He may have sighed. China heard pieces of a sentence, "Thank you—couldn't see my—almost lost it—hurry now!" Now it was Russia grasping China's hand, pulling him along. For every one of Russia's steps, China had to take one and half or occasionally two, which made for a really awkward and uncoordinated stroll down the block.

Their hands dropped once inside the building. China shook snow out of his hair and redid his ponytail. "S-S-Second door on the left i-i-i-s what France told me. I, I have to hurry, I n-n-need to talk to Hong Kong."

One stride from the hallway where America and England's furious banter could be heard, Russia stopped him. "You are cold, da? Would you like my scarf?"

He stopped mid-step, mind flushed of all thoughts, even fear. Russia did not _offer _his scarf. Not to his sisters, probably not even to the devil and certainly not to him. In his curious, blank state, China rolled out the words, "That's very kind of you, aru," since it was really neither yes nor no. He remembered one of his oldest teachers, Fenwei, who taught him to make diplomatic decisions.

It must have sounded more like "yes," as not a moment later Russia was undoing his precious scarf and holding it out for him, miraculously unharmed by the snow, for the most part. China removed his gloves and placed them neatly in his pockets before taking it and arranging it around his neck. And good grief, it was long. He could feel both the comfortable heat of the building and proper emotions returning to him, so turned to head for the Meeting Room before he could realize what in the world he'd just done. The soft thudding of Russia's boots sounded behind him. Unpleasant. It hadn't been twenty years ago, he murmured in his mind.

The door was already cracked and noise flooded out. Apparently they weren't late after all, pre-meeting chatter was still going on. With a soft nudge of his palm that his cold hands hardly felt, the door opened. China swiftly examined the enormous table taking up most of the room and speed-walked around it to find Hong Kong. His little brother was standing at the far corner of the table with his sleeves together, thankfully about as far from China could get from Russia without making a desperate and obvious circle. Hong Kong saw him coming, and an uncharacteristic amount of—what was that? Interest?—showed on his face.

"'Evening, aru. Before we started, I wanted to ask what you thought of _chun jie _last month, since there were so many—"

"Is that Russia's scarf that's smothering you?"

With a sigh, and another portion of feeling (the "what have I done?" sort) coming back to him, China feebly replied, "I saw him when we were both almost here and we walked most of the block together, aru. We got inside and he said I looked cold and let me borrow it. Now, can you please tell me your thoughts on _chun jie_?"

"Russia does not merely offer his scarf…to anyone."

"So I thought, but here it is on me, and I definitely didn't just steal ir. It was a nice gesture and I felt like I'd just spent the night in a meat locker, aru! It's making me warm. Honestly, I didn't think you'd be one to avoid the subject—"

"You're the one avoiding the subject." Hong Kong interrupted, and eyed the new accessory as one would a new species of spider. "And I didn't think you'd be one to put your head in the sand about something so…outright? Blatant? Blatant. Yes. Seeing as it's such a well-intentioned gesture on his part and everyone can see it in here."

The door slammed behind them, and Seychelles and Poland laughed uproariously about a joke with the word "witch" in it. France started a passionate rant beside them in his mother tongue. China struggled to find a reply. He chose to make it humorous to deflect the groundless horror that was suddenly growing in him. "Is this a game, aru?" He cocked his head. "So much for 'wisdom comes with age', I have no idea what you mean. I'll chime in when I know what in the world you're talking about."

"Russia has offered you his scarf, brother. He offers you that, a most treasured thing of his, stares at you for every meeting the past god-knows-how-many months. And I remember your stories about how he would follow you around when you were Communist buddies or whatever the term is. It all equals a dangerous romantic interest."

"...I'll chime in when I know what you're talking about."

Hong Kong's plump brows came together with disappointment. "Are you serious? For God's sake, if you could be blind about one thing in, like, the whole world, this is a really _horrible _one to choose." A blank stare was all he got in return. Poland, dragging a shirtless Lithuania, sped between them, chased by Romano. Not even a blink. Hong Kong slowly let his hands fall into place at his sides. "Yao. You are _not _so painfully stupid as to miss that beast staring at you the way he's been doing for so long. Yong Soo tried to say something to you last year. I told him not to because you probably had it under control. That sucks that I was wrong and you had no idea at all."

One of China's hands reached out blindly and groped at the air until it found a chair, then pulled it back and sat slowly and shakily down. Spain went by them and gave a curious glance at China's just-about-traumatized face. Thankfully, he was out of range when China began quietly murmuring, "Oh…my god…oh…" to himself. Hong Kong looked around awkwardly, scanning for possible viewers, and found everyone distracted by various conversations, arm-wrestling tournaments and threats to the White House.

He pulled out his own chair and put one leg elegantly over the other, a piece of etiquette China had taught him when he was small. "You look quite unhappy."

"I'm _scared._" Hong Kong blinked once and looked contemplative. He waited till China continued, with one palm over part of his face, "He's…he's Russia. He could want anything in the world from me, aru. And I have no idea why it's me he chose!"

"You don't believe it's because he would like to develop a relationship with you?"

China flatly scoffed back, "What, do you?"

"Yes. I think it's the general consensus, in fact." China again decided to sit and stare, and so Hong Kong elaborated: "Most everyone has long since seen it and kept quiet about it. Even the idiots among us have had more than a few _years _to observe. I think only...like, Romano and Spain don't really know. Maybe the Sealand child." He paused once, and both frowned and waited. Hong Kong picked up again. "If you don't believe it, you can test it out. China now muttered something into his hand that was probably an inquiry on how to do such a thing, so Hong Kong put forth a setting in which to do so. "America's having some sort of party next week, out on some rural property of his." He stopped there, to keep the now-too-close-for-comfort England from listening in. America and Romano joined his circle and started up a chat involving penguins and the nuclear physics program America's military was pretending not to work on. Drowning out their chatter, China stared straight ahead and drew together the faint and feeble and probably life-threatening scraps of a plan.

Whatever Russia wanted from him, he would most certainly not get it.

He reached for the scarf to remove it, but decided not to at that last moment. The room was quite cold.

* * *

America did indeed have a party of some sort about a week later. The "some sort" came into being because he was meaning to show off some firecrackers he'd acquired from locals (American citizens were usually ecstatic to see their own Alfred F. Jones in person) and couldn't wait till his country's independence holiday to use them. He also just liked to have company around, and so this called for a "Nation Party". China took a plane from his homeland to America's, running over his plan the entire eleven-hour flight. And eating some packed fried rice and playing his Hello Kitty DS game, as well, seeing as even the most dangerous of plots couldn't take up all of one's thoughts for eleven hours.

Finding his way through the airport was a fun experience, considering all the types of people and languages to be found there, (and of course the dozens of little food places of all nationalities and styles) and he was almost sad to have to take a taxi to America's home. Once he stepped out of the vehicle and saw the representations of about half the world already there, his stomach sank and his fried rice nearly came back up.

China muttered quotes and a few chants under his breath as he drifted through crowds of friends and strangers on the perfectly-manicured lawn. His eyes scanned up and down the grass for a relatively isolated place, preferably in the sun. Preferably where, if it came to blows, he wouldn't be alone and unseen.

He found a suitable place by the south corner of the lawn. There was a small hill there, with a tree growing on the side facing the house. Feigning tiredness, he lie down on the slope, the shade of the tree crossing his legs and chest. _'I'm right here, Russia.' _China thought solemnly. _'If you want to attack me, I'm here and completely defenseless.'_

Ten or so minutes later, despite it being still daylight, the sound of America's fireworks rang across the property. Korea and Poland cheered and made excited exclamations in their respective languages. The smell of grilled food drifted on the air. Someone once walked up to him, called back, "He's sleeping!" to the crowd by the porch, and went back. A half hour went by, the sun began setting, and China's muscles remained tense as violin strings. Nothing was happening.

When the first crickets began chirping, their noise rang in China's ears like church bells. His eyes were closed but his mind had never been more open and alert. Every sound was ten times louder, he fought goose bumps from every breeze and now—now someone was staring at him.

There was no doubt. It was someone several stone's-throws away, probably on the porch, and judging from the ever-stronger meat aroma, waiting to be served. There was one chance in perhaps thirty, considering the number of guests, that it was Russia, yet goosebumps rose on China's arms. _'Come on, who are you, aru? Get over here and say something!' _

He waited several minutes more before the presence padded across the lawn. Once they came close enough, China judged the heaviness of the footsteps, and deduced that if by some chance it was not Russia, the only other person it could be was Sweden. And Sweden had been quite occupied by Finland and his dog for the entire party.

This was it.

Russia was standing, no, sitting now, close enough to touch him. China felt his heartbeat pick up suddenly when the wind teased the northern nation's scarf and the end of it flopped onto his leg. He was far too close.

'_Do something! Stab me! Drug me! Step on me! I can't stand this waiting!' _

He was still mid-thought when he felt a hand, yes, it was most definitely a ungloved hand, running through his hair. It swept through the strands he kept free from the ponytail, curled them round its fingers, and finally released them. China expected that same lack of feeling as when he'd spoken to Hong Kong days before, but he was flooded with a terrible mixture of fright and something…unfitting. Acceptance? Enjoyment?

'_Why would I think that, aru? Does this feel good? Is it supposed to?' _Russia's hand curved around the opposite side of his head now, caressing from temple to jaw line in one smooth stroke and repeating again and again. China's emotion-flood told him that yes, this did feel good. Russia had the power to be comforting when it suited him. He could be preparing to stab someone, for all China knew, yet this was undeniable fact.

Russia exhaled a short, jagged sigh and his hand's perfect route quaked. His fingers moved away from his face now. The arm made a near-inaudible sound as it set itself down and moved slightly in the grass near China's head. There was a sudden warmth in the air which had not been present the moment before. Russia loomed close enough to slit his throat, but no knife came down on him.

Instead, warm lips pressed onto his and he almost seized in shock and forgot remain in his false sleep. Balanced over China with his arm, Russia inclined his head and in doing so, inclined China's; it angled their kiss enough for their lips to truly fit each other. At the sudden, perfect meeting, China stopped a mewl in his throat. This was too much; he had to pull away to breathe. He pushed his hands against Russia's shoulders to fight for his air.

Russia would not have such a thing. He touched his free hand to the back of China's head, ran two fingers through the free strands again, and stopped his victim from moving around so.

China gasped at the feel of a foreign tongue in his mouth, unknowingly giving it greater access. It freely immersed itself in the taste of his mouth and when it touched his, there was no blocking the broken whimper of feeling that his conscious, modest self would otherwise halt completely. Russia's lips curved up in a smile. He knew very well what he was doing—and was foolish enough in his pride to let his guard down then just enough for China to push him away.

He fell backwards with only a moderate lack of grace while China scurried back like a crab and crouched as though ready to spring up and flee. "What-What-What was that?" he barked. "What were you doing, aru? That was the most…the most—!"

"Please don't be mad."

All observing nations on the porch turned slack-jawed and some grew crocodile grins. China's visage portrayed nothing but redness. At a loss, he merely said, "…Don't be _mad_?"

"I suppose it would have been better if I had woken you first. But I couldn't help myself. You look simply adorable in sleep."

Setting the strange adjective aside, China attempted to stand, and did so shakily at best. "I look adorable in sleep, so you're tempted to kiss me?" he said. "What…what is that supposed to mean?"

"I love you, Yao." The porch crowd and China himself stayed silent as stones.

China feebly replied, "No one calls me Yao. Not even my brother."

Russia met China's hazy eyes with much darker violet. "I would very much like to call you Yao. If you would allow me. If you won't, I think I will make you." The thread was left hanging and unknown.

"You are an old friend of mine at best, aru." China stated with as much matter-of-factness as his fuddled mind could muster. "I'm sorry, but to you, I am China, aru."

Now it was Russia's turn to stand. While still moving he murmured to himself, "Not for long." And, at his full height again, with his eyes and voice darkening, "Not for long. Soon you'll be mine." China's brows came slightly together and his breathing hitched. "You can come to me or I can chase you. I think chasing is fun, but if you try that, remember to be fast, da?"

All eyes turned to China, standing at the apex of the little hill and not saying a word. He parted and closed his lips, unsure, churning within himself. He forced himself to meet Russia's eyes. There was no innocence or even patience there. "You want me to accept that you 'love' me? Give you permission to do whatever you wish, aru?" Not even a nod was needed, so none was given.

"_Make me_!"

China whipped around and started running. Russia removed his scarf and called out for Lithuania to watch it for him. "I'm counting to five, Yao! You better go faster than that!"

* * *

Ack! The last ten or so paragraphs were awful to write! Any kind of romance is so difficult for me, and what sounds corny and what sounds heartfelt seems like it can be one or the other at the drop of a hat. I only hope the ending (and Russia going from "please accept me" to "I will hunt you down, my lovely~" in, like, two paragraphs) entices you…

No, China won't be this suspicious and scared the entire story. It's a natural reaction to having someone come onto you who's more than just_ amusingly_ psychopathic. I'm sure I'll find something else to say and edit it in later, but for now…I hope I've done well…


	2. Two

So many good responses for a story with only one chapter thus far! I posted it and went to bed worrying myself to death counting flaws and guessing how many "wow can you write any retarded-er" reviews would appear the next day. I considered taking it down and writing something else…apparently I shouldn't. I doubt this will exceed six or so chapters.

Remember my yaoi-noob-ness. I cringe with fear as I write and hope it sounds as hot and non-laughable as it looks in my head.

* * *

'_What am I doing what am I doing what am I—should I just keep going till I fall over and faint—and—and—should I look back, aru?—No, I shouldn't, that'll be the exact moment I trip over a rock—oh, why did I do this, I could have just tried to talk and now I'm playing Godzilla-and-mouse with him-'_

China couldn't stop thinking. His mind was steady enough to recognize that as a good thing. Mindless running was what got herbivores murdered and made feasts of by carnivores. The greatest battles, schemes and even retreats were carried out successfully by thorough, practical thinkers who didn't tuck their tail in and flee at approaching danger. He knew from experience.

Even if the danger was named _Russia _or _Ivan Braginski _or _chasing an innocent man across American soil _or _probably planning to tear my tongue out with his and eat it, aru _or—well, some of those weren't names. Anyhow, if he kept up his inner fear-rant long enough for it to affect his judgment, China would be on the ground and possibly in pieces very soon. He had to calm down. He had to assess this.

He was still running. Very fast. It had been five or ten minutes since he'd taken off, night was coming on, he'd probably covered seven or so _li _already and his pace and amount of energy had hardly diminished, making him curious how much of this was adrenaline after all. And if he concentrated he could faintly hear the sound of shoes beating the ground nearly as hard as his, just inside his range of hearing.

'_I can't just keep running till I see the Pacific Ocean.' _China's told himself quite calmly. _'I must face this. Russia must understand that whatever his feelings are, I am not returning them, unless he's playing an awful joke, in which case…it's not funny.' _

It would be the smart thing to slow down. Talk. Remind Russia of his mistakes or misconceptions, agree to put it behind them, walk back goodness knows how many miles and fill the awkward silence with pointless conversation, and explain that Russia had been joking or simply…what was the English word? Wasting? Wasted? But it was difficult to ignore the sounds behind him growing louder, by fractions just large enough to be noticed.

This had to stop. He had to be the one to stop, too. If Russia caught up to him first, anything could happen. If something bad happened, there was always _wu shu _to fall back on. America would have a hell of a time making action movies about what moves Chinese could break out against Russians when attacked!

With one long leap to gain energy for a harsher, more abrupt stop, China scoured up dust and grass and stood waiting to be tackled or worse.

He was waiting a few seconds longer than he thought. There was just enough time for him to wonder if he had been particularly fast or Russia was particularly slow; the next thought came more slowly, since he was suddenly several inches off the ground and being strangled by either Russia's arms or iron beams. His first instinct was to fight back, kick out swiftly at the back of his captor's knee as he had taught countless students to do, but then realized his opponent's weapon was—a hug.

Russia was laughing behind him like one having won a prize. "So strange that you would stop when you could outrun me if you wished! I wondered if you would keep going until you had to cross the ocean." China could feel his captor's cheek pressing slightly against his hair, though it was nothing compared to the stranglehold on his torso.

'_Please, please say he doesn't bite.' _

"You're all done with your adrenaline rush, da? Because I would like to kiss you when you're awake this time. And for longer."

Immediately China's hands rushed to loosen himself from the iron grip. "That's the first thing you think to say—stop it!" Russia halted in his soft tugging of China's hair. "You don't just kiss people, aru! Explain yourself! Where is this all coming from?"

Very like a child would adjust a stuffed animal in their arms, Russia turned China slightly so that their eyes could meet. "I have cared about you for a long time, but you do not notice, or seem not to see me in the same light as I see you. And I am irritated with doing nothing about it. But you took my scarf. You did. We were in a heated building already, but you did." His eyes brightened, glistened, even, with joy. "It made me think…that I have a chance after all!"

China could remember his lack of feeling that evening, physical and somehow emotional. The wind and driving snow had numbed him through and through; what now seemed all but disastrous had then been…nothing. He now had to make it nothing once more.

"I'm sorry, aru. But I _don't _see you in the same light. You're my ally and I would assist you if your country needed it. But I can't give you this, aru."

Silence. The same positively delighted stare. Then, "That is all right. You said to 'make you', da? If I must, I must." He loosened his arms enough for China to drop the six or so inches needed to reach the ground, but no further. China allowed himself to be turned so that he faced his adversary, and begged whatever deities there were to allow his numbness to return.

"You needn't look so scared. I know what the other Allies say about me." Russia laid his hands on both sides of China's head. "But they have something to fear from me. You do not." He cocked his head, a new thought stirring. "Or perhaps you do. Or…hmmph." He was looking over China's head now, and the noise made it pointless for China to look as well. Only American vehicles made so much noise, but it was not America driving it.

Driving a Jeep quite in the middle of nowhere, Hungary swerved to a stop, tearing tracks into the grass and standing up before the car had righted itself again, all while shouting, "Waaaaaaiit!" China waited. Russia did not; he gathered China up in one arm and carried him over to the car.

Hungary leaned forward onto the windshield. Tapping a camera in her free hand, she sighed, "Russia-san, didn't you hear me? Ah, I was so close! If I hadn't wasted those few seconds calming Austria down—"

"Whatever you did worked quite well!" Russia interrupted and lifted his arm to allow China to seat himself behind their new driver. "Not even America came after us. Thank you so much for keeping everyone away. I asked her to do that so you would not be embarrassed, Yao. Though I can't fix what was done with your spectacle from before."

China was irritated equal parts for the use of his name as for implying anything from before had been his fault, but he let both go uncommented. There was a larger issue. He timed his voicing it carefully; just as Hungary turned the key and the roaring engine sounded, blocking more sound from her upfront than Russia, he asked it. "Why do you like me?"

The sudden flooring of the engine knocked them all back slightly. Russia allowed himself to be smacked back into the seat before answering. "You understate. I love you—I do not think I can show you how much—because winter burns me less if I think of you. You are a strong, good person, and happy with your life, so when you smile, it is real, da?" His hand slid over and covered China's. "And you're very cute. I like that about you very much."

Much too busy absorbing information, China sat with his hands tucked in his sleeves and an expression a few notches above neutral. "That's…very kind, aru. Th-thank you."

Russia smiled and laughed softly through his nose. "_Ne za chto_. Did you know you're quite adorable when flustered? I think now is the time to kiss you." He pulled on China's hand, and would have pulled the rest of him were it not for the seatbelt. "Ah? Then I shall have to move." He unbuckled himself and scooted closer to where China sat wide-eyed and silent, distracting himself from this by wondering what Hungary would think of it. Russia held the Asian's head in his hands as he had moments before, but no interruption came this time.

"Remember, longer this time, da?" He leaned in close enough for their lips to touch as he talked. "And you do not get to sleep through this one." Russia initiated their second kiss.

Instead of fighting, China allowed it to happen, whilst furiously stomping all sensory detail. This would not faze him. _'I'm merely being kissed by a man, aru. This is new. Not historical. Odd, not fantastic. And certainly not what he wants it to be.' _

He was careful to keep his mouth closed, but could feel Russia's warm tongue—how did he not burn himself with that?—clashing with his lips. Asking to be let in. _'I'm sorry. I don't think so.' _Then Russia wasn't asking. Then he undid China's seatbelt. _'Is this a threat, aru?' _

A hand pressed onto China's abdomen, and he couldn't help but squirm. His mouth was free for a moment and his eyes open. The hand pushed again, harder, effectively trapping him in between a car door and a grinning Russia. "What…are you smilinggg about, aru?" China asked, but it came out as more of a gasp.

"You taste like something sweet. I want more."

"I didn't even open my mouth, how can I possibly taste like anyth—"

"I'll find out," Russia interrupted, and leaned in to attack again. China expected such a move, though, and closed his mouth mid-sentence. Russia, tired of the rejection, turned the hand he still kept cushioning China's head and angled it towards himself. He searched eagerly with his tongue for a weaker point, and hummed low against China's lips when he found it.

The weaker point was found only with effort, but reaped great rewards; now playing with China's tongue, Russia was all but in complete control and would stop for nothing. But control did not have to in turn mean utter domination, viciousness—not yet. Not now. To convey this, he made sure not to crush his mouth to China's too desperately. No desperation, especially not when being gentle was so critical.

It was too hard. He was risking what he had waited years for, and…and…well, they were almost back to America's house. Russia disentangled himself from his object of interest and watched as China moved to sit facing front again as a typical car passenger would, albeit staring with unfocused eyes and trying to keep from panting.

"Thank goodness we're here," Hungary said from the driver's seat. Both men looked up and saw her leaning over her seat, face nearly as red as China's. "You two could have gone on for a while. Russia-san, may I—"

"Not now. Yao, would you please exit the car? The door on my side is stuck." China grasped the door handle, turned it and hopped out all without looking and his suitor followed. Latvia and Sealand were sitting together on the porch of the enormous house; Sealand shouted something and waved. China began walking towards them at an average pace but was stopped. Russia had grasped his arm. "You are all right? I would rather you not walk away from me being…harmed."

"I'm fine, aru. I just think…" China could see Russia standing over him and hanging on his word out of the corner of his eye and chose his words as artfully as he could manage. "That was… impressive, aru."

The guardian angel that was Sealand saved him from having to continue what could have been an awkward conversation by screaming across the lawn, "Chinaaaaa, America's looking for youuuuu!"

"I'm coming," he called back, and made his way around the house at a purposefully normal, unbothered pace. As the night crickets chirped around him, he touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his gums and anywhere else there was a taste that hadn't been there five minutes before, and shouldn't be there now. He ran his tongue over those places again and again; it was like a new type of food, completely unfamiliar, in need of no spices or coverings. It tasted lovely on its own. And just as he was about to turn the corner to the backyard, China stopped.

'_Lovely? Describing Russia? Describing a kiss from Russia?' _They were two pieces from separate puzzles. But he should have noticed these puzzles before. He was an old nation, the oldest, in fact; it was shameful that this had slipped by his notice like leaves under a bridge.

A breeze picked up and he inhaled the cool, strong breath it offered him. He vowed not to be so foolish from now on. None of Russia's signs would drift by unnoticed. And for that matter, he wouldn't be so scatterbrained as to forget America had requested his presence. China smoothed his shirt, a wise decision as Russia's dictionary-sized hand had wrinkled it, and made his way around the house. The first thing he saw was the floodlights on the roof lighting up the yard, and France pulling Canada out into the mostl brightly-lit area of the yard to either dance or stagger around drunk with him. He had hardly gone five steps closer when Poland, apparently aware of him by telepathy, whisked around and dashed towards him. Lithuania followed, and Hong Kong stared over at them from the snack table.

"Heeey!" Poland greeted him. "My god, you have _got _to tell me what went on with you and that Commie. Did he, like, try to eat you? Does he love you from the bottom of his little demon heart?" Lithuania frowned and rolled his eyes.

Attracted by the Pole's singsongy voice (and perhaps the word "Commie") half a dozen other heads turned and saw the re-arrived guest. England covered the distance between them at what seemed to be the speed of light and asked where his scars were. France skipped merrily over in an intoxicated zigzag and inquired as to the whereabouts of China's little lover ("or big lover, actually. Hic! I mean, that guy's taaaaallll, right, Mister five-eightn'a half?") but all were drowned out by America's megaphone.

"China, you freaking tardy-ass! Get your butt over here so I can watch it break out some kung fu!"

Eager to see what _that _was all about, China ducked under and through the crowd like a fish dodging a bear's claws. He jogged to where America stood in between two flagpoles proudly brandishing his country's flag. "Kung fu, aru? Don't tell me you're actually interested in learning? And kung fu specifically or any type of _wu shu_?"

The blonde looked away sheepishly. "Heh, s'not really for me. I mean, why would I learn when I've got _you _and your BA moves, China! Show me some!" He backed up behind the southern-facing flagpole and produced a small camera from seemingly nowhere. "This is for a movie my guy Cameron is making. I promised him I'd give him a sample of the things my buddy China can do. Hey, in fact, get someone to fight with! Japan! You know samurai stuff, bitch it out with your brother here! Just for a minute!"

A conveniently-located Korea grabbed Japan by the collar and began heaving him towards the "ring" where China stood with his hands on his hips. He frowned in Korea's direction and then bowed to his adoptive brother. "I'd rather get this over with quickly. My plane boards in an hour." A maid zipped in between the two and handed a gaudy-looking sword to Japan before prancing away. America gave them both an exaggerated thumbs-up.

"You begin, aru." China offered with a smile. He raised both hands to eye-level and held them vertically, with one foot slightly outward. His younger brother would not deign him with a reply, and chose to run at him directly instead of giving a greeting. He raised the sword but would not unsheathe it. He held it in both hands and struck downwards, kendo-style. China clapped it between his palms several inches above his head, and struggled slightly to suppress a victorious grin.

By the grill on the patio, Finland and Estonia shouted encouragement and the support of acquaintances brought a soft grin to China's face. He pulled suddenly, all strength in his hands, and tore the sword from his brother's hands. Japan was quick as well and grasped the hilt as the sheath was torn away, leaving himself lacking a sheath but brandishing a weapon. A faint smile grew on his face.

"Skin can always conquer steel with proper maneuvering!" China reminded him. "Or a wok."

The old tease made Japan falter for a moment. China slid onto his side and kicked straight upward, knocking the sword out of his brother's hand. He rose up in time to kick again, but retracted his foot at the last moment. A whirling, grey object flew past and landed somewhere on the far, unlit section of the yard.

"That was, like…unexpected." Poland noted. "Hey, it's Russia! Russia, did you just seriously throw a pipe at your, like, object of affection? 'Cause maybe that's a sign of love in Winterland, but _yaah!_" Russia jabbed a finger in the speaker's eye as he walked past, and ignored America and Prussia's bantering of whether or not the pipe-throwing was awesomer than Prussia.

"I am sorry for interrupted your...your fight, or whatever this may be. And all I had was my pipe to get your attention. You see, I forgot something, Yao," Russia announced, pointedly ignoring Japan. "Hungary did me a favor by keeping America and several others from following us when you ran away before. I must pay her back."

He reached to gather China in his arms, but felt hands pushing against the insides of his elbows just before his hands could meet and fully trap his charge. "I don't care what Hungary requested as payment. You will not molest me thrice in one day, aru. No."

"Molest?" He forced his hands together and pulled China against himself and up, holding him at just below eye-level, and creating an unfortunately familiar situation and pose for China. "You think I am so evil?"

"I don't believe you are evil." He paused to acknowledge that for the second time, they had a slack-jawed audience. This time, though, there were spotlights. "In fact…you've convinced me your intentions are good. And, I think that, ah," He was screaming inwardly, wishing like mad for the snow-numbness, "I would like a chance to get to know you better, if you would allow me, aru."

Russia watched China's embarrassed-looking eyes swiveling along random patches of grass around his feet, replied merely, "Da," and licked his cheek. A startled China cried out, "Aiyaah!" in perfect sync with the flash of a camera.

Hungary skipped over to them from beyond the glare of the floodlights, the camera which had been unused in her Jeep now held tight in her hands. "Thank you very much, Russia-saaaan! Best of luck with your precious one!" she said, and skipped off towards the house, giggling.

A moment of silence followed in which the onlookers had little idea how to respond. Russia, seeing opportunity, lightly pressed his face to China's neck to add something he had forgotten to give while in Hungary's car. China felt this, as well as a sudden chill alongside his new discovery.

'_Yes. Yes, he bites.' _

* * *

Yay for kiss scene number two. I tried to make it…harder? Hardcore-er? …I TRIED. I was fueled by the constant idea that few fanfictions explore how Russia and China's relationship began, while many (though this is not a flaw) simply jump to them being in love by the beginning of the story. The point of this fanfiction is to give them a beginning (i.e., Russia declaring that IT WILL BE.) And so in many fanfictions China doesn't have to go through the fearful, awkward "newness" behavior that he does here.

In fact, that's one reason I added the scene of America wanting to film China doing martial arts: so he could act relaxed and cheerful for once, as he naturally is. The other reason was because, since China can KO the Axis by just flailing a wok, logically if he used some real, coordinated martial arts, which I'd bet money he knows, he could take on nearly anyone. It's what makes him such a great uke. Totally adorable, but not a weakling.

_Wu shu _(characters: 武术) translates to "martial arts", by the way, and _"ne za chto", _in its original Cyrillic, is _Не за чтo, _means "you're welcome."

(Feel free to LOL at Hungary, who requests to be paid in yaoi photos, and yet is only a _slightly _rabid yaoi fangirl.) See y'all next chapter.


	3. Three

Onwards to chapter three! I thank everyone for their support. I'm definitely gonna see this through.

By the way, someone asked if this takes place in "modern times" and my answer is yes, it does. But we're going to ignore the historic fact that Russia doesn't own the Baltic trio at this time as he does in canon. But this is fanfiction and Russia needs his Baltic buds so we can't have it any other way :D

* * *

"I feel I am doing the right thing, aru. Centuries of experience have told me that this usually puts one on the right path."

"I think you're brave to do this. And kind. I bet he likes that about you. Well, hell, he likes you enough to call you by your given name! Did he happen to say exactly what about you he likes? Don't look at me like that, this is the sort of thing girls ask. You should know that, Mr. Effeminate."

"…He likes that my smiles are 'real.' That I'm a good person, and strong and very happy, aru. And that I'm cute."

"Awwww!"

"What?"

"Here's a tip, _gege_—if a boy likes you, and he isn't a superficial pig, he'll say something about your smile. That matters."

"Taiwan, you don't think it would different if…if a man has feelings for a man?"

"Feelings are feelings. Don't be distracted by gender."

"You realize that, a decade ago, you may not have said such a thing."

"What, if he had asked back when homosexuals were executed, you would be feeling better about this?"

"No, I'm just—"

"What you're 'just' doing is dancing around the point! You've gotta give him a chance!"

"I am! I want to! I just wish…I had some idea of what to expect. I've fought war campaigns with more confidence than I have right now, aru."

"Confidence, schmonfidence! Just go out there and be yourself, that's what he wants."

"Heh-heh. Thank you for talking. I feel a bit better."

"What are you gonna do now?"

"Take a walk in my garden and try not to stroke."

* * *

It had been a few days since America's party. There was not another meeting or Summit scheduled for close to a month. Yong Soo, hard at work making a statue of Godzilla, was being faithfully watched over by his apparent keeper Hong Kong. Japan was knee-deep in new issues of manga he had missed due to overwork, Taiwan was spending the next three days shopping (which was possible for her) and his friends from the old Allies alliance, minus one, had been fighting over soccer or something since the party had ended that night. China had literally no other nation to interact with except the one that had recently molested him in a car.

Taiwan, upon hearing of her elder brother's potential relationship, let her rocky background with him slide for the purpose of having a conversation that started with, "So…does he 'like you' like you?" Despite how disgustingly preteen-schoolgirl that had been, it was also kind and uplifting. And it was the morning of the fourth day. China had sat like a coward in his house for far too long.

His cellphone, a birthday gift from tight-lipped Japan, was lying on his bed where had had left it. Sunshine came through the window and lit up the room, lit up images of hope and contentment and picnics and Shinatty-chan and apparently bringing Russia into his house. China took the phone and dialed.

He thought of absolutely nothing as the ringing went on. At last it stopped and a dulled sound of something falling and someone complaining came through the line. A younger-sounding voice than even his own asked, "H-h-h-h-hello?"

"Latvia-san, good morning."

In the background, Estonia asked someone to pass the milk, and stopped mid-request when Latvia exclaimed, "Oh, _kungs _China! Hello!"

"If Russia is nearby, I would like to—"

But already Russia-in-the-background was saying, "Give me the phone, Latvia," and there was a quick and fearful, "Yessir!" before Russia's voice truly came on the phone: "Yao? You have not called me for months! What is this about?"

"What this is about is you coming to visit me in the near future, if you are interested, aru." Russia understood it was a joke of sorts, and laughed. China quickly sifted through some old memories and drew up one as a suitable excuse for how long it took him to call. "I've been getting acquainted with foreigners for the past few days, but I am free today. I believe I could teach you _jianzi _if you came—"

"You are beginning to ramble. Let me stop you before it becomes obvious that you are nervous."

"It's rude to interrupt, Russia, aru."

"It's silly that you can't simply ask me to come to your house. You needn't search for a reason or something to do. You've invited me, so I am very happy already."

"Ah, I—"

"When shall I come?"

"The, the flight is about six hours, isn't it? Whenever you arrive."

"Da! I will be there soon! Lithuania, find me a flight to—" He hung up.

His hand shaking a bit, China clicked the "end" button on his phone and sidled over to the bathroom to observe himself in the mirror. His hair was loosely hanging over the left shoulder of a plain red shirt with white hems that he'd found similar to Shinatty-chan's coloring. His body carried no scars but for the hidden one on his back, and all things considered he looked quite fit and ready to take on anything. How odd to think this image could be dotted with teeth marks or clothing tears by the end of the day.

He walked up and down the hallways of his home, rearranging this, alphabetizing that, hugging the Hello Kitty plush he kept hidden in his closet for comfort, all the while making up fantastic theories as to what would happen when Russia came. They ranged from Russia learning to play _jianzi _to statutory rape. And something in between having to do with crocodiles. A little after this he locked his door and popped in an old VHS tape of _Blue's Clues_, delighting in correcting silly Steve time after time. The paw print was on the table, not the chair, and of course it was mail time now ("mail, mail, it never fails, it makes me wanna wag my tail, when it comes I want to wail _mail_!") and so China passed that part of his waiting time happy and entertained.

A total of six and a half hours had gone by when one of his half-dozen servants found him in the south parlor polishing his collection of prized _wu shi _costumes. With a bow, which China politely reciprocated, the servant told him there was someone by the front gate wanting to be let in, by the name of Ivan. "Let him in." he told the servant, almost adding, "he's a friend of mine," but decided that such a title could be given…next visit Or the one after.

The servant jogged away. China had a sudden urge to open the blinds in the room, even though the lights were already on. He did so anyway; it allowed him to move around somewhat. Sitting in one place whilst Russia was coming to find him brought an instinctual urge to move somewhere, if not flee.

'_He is not some sort of beast, aru. I never thought he was. But I can't say I don't fear him somewhat.' _Perhaps, once this was over, he could boast that out of all nations on Earth, he held the least fear for Russia. That had certainly been truth once. He would never forget that.

Just before he slipped into old memories, the door opened, and he heard its aged creak. China turned and was grateful to suddenly have Russia in his sights from a distance away rather than from an arm's length. And for good reason: once he saw him, Russia made some exclamation of joy and started running.

Thank goodness he was already a few safe paces away from the _wu shi _costumes. China prepared for impact—that is, stood fairly limp, as less tension meant being less prone to something breaking—and was glad he did. Russia's arms clamping around him could have broken something instead of merely cracking a few joints and lifting him slightly off the ground, as fate had it occur.

After he made a sound rather like purring, Russia's voice rang clear: "I am so happy to see you! I haven't been to your country since the Cold War." Thankfully, Russia did not expand on that subject. "Hm? Is this a dragon, Yao? It's very elegant."

The lion costume, some six or seven feet long including the head, was in essence a silken, gold blanket made to resemble fur, and lined at the ends with softly-glittering white trim. Connected to the front was a head about twice the diameter of a person's head, complete with large eyes, ears on the top and thick white lining making it appear as though the lion had furry eyebrows and lips. "It is supposed to have no legs, though?" He let China down and pointed to the poles holding it up in the air for display.

Stifling a sigh—foreigners mistaking lion dancing for dragon dancing for centuries on end got irritating. "It's a lion, not a dragon. Lion dancing is a traditional festivity in my culture, aru." He gestured to the empty space under the costume, where the poles held it. "Two people stand under it. It covers them like a blanket, and their legs become the lion's legs."

Russia cocked his head slightly; he actually looked interested. China's lip curved upward on one side, forming a little smile. "Does the head move by itself?"

"No, the man who acts as the front legs holds it. Most lion heads are capable of blinking and opening their mouths for authenticity, aru. This one's eye mechanism is broken right now, though." He checked to make sure he still had his guest's attention and found him turned around and looking at a similar costume, but colored green and trimmed with silver and the occasional bell.

Pointing at the character written on the forehead of a third lion, Russia began making soft sounds under his breath. China laced his hands together and tucked them into their sleeves protectively before moving closer to try and hear. It was something like, "Deh…ti? Don, dang…"

"The character on its head is _dong. _Winter." He clarified, wondering how much or how little of his tongue his guest knew. After centuries of being neighbors, China had thought he knew at least the basics of Chinese. He himself could certainly speak...acceptable Russian. "Its creators were complete idiots who left it outside in a hailstorm, and yet after the thaw it dried and was still usable, aru." Russia pronounced the word again, his voice flat and slightly high in an attempt to use the correct tone.

It was still a little something to laugh at. China had the wisdom not to. "Good enough. A native would know which tone you were trying to use."

A proud smile sprouted on Russia's face. He asked then, "May we go outside? It was so nice, and it's much warmer here than it is now in my home."

China realized this meant a rather long walk out to the front of the house. He agreed and filled the walk with mindless babble about _jianzi, _which was similar to America's hackeysackactivity but done by more common people than rebellious children. They luckily came to the front door faster than he'd hoped, and China used both hands to open them and let in a smooth stream of air and sun. Russia sighed to his left, and reached up to loosen his scarf. China spotted a recent, perhaps thumb-sized scar a few inches below his ear.

Russia removed his gloves and stuck them in his pockets, then grabbed China's hand with a quick gasp of, "Come!" and pulled. Barefoot China stepped on a bump in the otherwise smooth pathway and limped slightly as he was pulled onto the lawn. Cheery spring sunlight came down on them and made his great house look nearly royal, if he did say so himself.

Again Russia pointed. "What's that on the wall?" China looked and saw a bamboo stick with rounded ends leaning against the wall that kept his home in a neat square from the woods beyond. One of his servants, Li Xiang, used it for his family's style of _wu shu _and requested it be kept in plain sight as otherwise he would forget where it was. China often sparred with him and met the bamboo with his hands and feet.

He relayed all this to Russia, who looked amazed. His face was a child's face now. China silently put up his guard. "It's so amazing, the things a person can do with just their movements. I only was able to watch for a few seconds at America's house. Would you show me now?"

"I don't see why n…" He trailed off as Russia began walking over to the wall to retrieve Li Xiang's stick. China could see no reason why his servants would refuse their borrowing it, but frowned anyhow. It wasn't polite to simply take something. All the same, he could not help but use those brief seconds alone to relive the past few minutes and read them over.

'_He's learning about me and my country. May as well be a tourist, aru.' _He thought at first, and then: _'No. It couldn't be so simple. _He _isn't so simple, however much he looks so. He is surely studying just as much as me.' _

He was coming back now with the bamboo in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see someone coming outside. At first it appeared to be Li Xiang himself, but it was another servant, Da Long, a young man who was always out first thing in the morning, sometimes with China, working or jogging. China had always suspected he woke up even earlier than he knew, in order to style his hair the way he did. Da Long was coming out with something flat in his hands, perhaps a tray or a few books. He had sensed the moment the door opened that something bad was coming their way. When Russia turned around to notice him, it was needless confirmation.

Da Long jogged over to the pair and held out a small wooden board on which rested a packet of papers. China studied the characters on them and deduced they were from Japan. "_Zhong guo, _your brother _ri ben _and his boss sent these requests for two more exports of—"

The bamboo stick slammed down through the board and the pieces fell at Da Long's feet. His hands were motionless in the air, painfully close to the stick as though he were about to embrace it. "I…um…I…"

China allowed his fury to build quietly. He met Dalong's eyes and tried to sound comforting. "_Qing qu li bian._" He commanded calmly. Da Long obeyed and walked back towards the house without looking back. By the time the door shut, China had met Russia's eyes; he was standing with his hand on top of the bamboo stick, eyes too lazy to be angry and too dark to mean well.

"What the hell was that?" China spat.

"He interrupted us. I hate that." the Russian replied stonily.

"What is that supposed to mean, aru? He was doing his job, and certainly not being a nuisance to you! And you realize that was my property you just shattered?"

Russia's hand slid downward slightly on the bamboo. "Yao," he said, the syllable slightly drawn out. "I came here to spend time with you, not with your servants. I will not tolerate them taking your attention away from me. Right now, it is mine."

Just fast enough for Russia to see, China tore the bamboo out of his hand, twirled it half-around and jabbed him in the stomach with it. Russia staggered back a step but gave no other indication of pain. "Don't talk like I'm a piece of furniture you can buy!" he said a bit loudly, setting one end of the stick in the grass. "What you came here to do _is _spend time with me, yes, but definitely not pretend that you own me and get to dictate who is allowed to talk to me!"

Russia smiled a little and didn't say anything.

The bamboo stick was twirled again and held out for Russia to take. "Put this back where you found it, and when you come back, be nice." He widened his eyes slightly at the last two words as though emphasizing something to a toddler. "Next time you do something stupid, I'll know to deflect it with the Crane before you can break something."

With a smile that was not childish, and cocking his head rather familiarly, Russia asked, "What is the Crane, Yao?"

"A style of _wu shu._" China said, irritation soothing slightly. Perhaps if Russia knew what he had to look forward to, he'd be a bit more cautious. "In which little to no attacking is done on my part, and I repel your attacks with movements that you're probably not fast enough to dodge, aru. It's known firstly for looking very much like a dance, and secondly for making the attacker look like a complete idiot."

Russia was still standing there and smiling his predator smile. _'This is a contest.' _China thought to himself. _'More than a foolish staring contest. I won't lose.' _"Or maybe Panther would make you behave."

If anything, the smile grew a fraction. "Panther?"

"The master of all. Ability, cunning and timing bring brute force to its knees. It's usually done pretty quick. And if I end up breaking your ankle or something, let me apologize in advance, aru. Though I hope I won't have to, aru."

"I'd love to see you as a panther."

A breeze blew by, and it was somehow taunting. _'Hmph. Brat thinks he's won.' _"I can go on telling you about martial arts till the sun goes down, or you can put Li Xiang's bamboo back where it belongs. As long as you promise to act your age and not stab things with sticks, I can show you around the city."

The smile stayed, but the eyes brightened. "That would be excellent! Um, it was by that tree with the red flowers…" He sauntered off to set the bamboo back. With a sigh, China crossed his arms and rested his forehead onto two fingers until Russia returned. "I have a request," he said once he was close. China let his arms fall back to his sides and stood listening. "You must call me by my real name. It is only fair."

'_Because you initiated it?' _"Fine, then. Ivan, let's go." He tucked his hands into his sleeves, briefly hoping Da Long would clean up the fragments of paper and sharp wood before someone went outside and stepped on them. A gesture of forced politeness, distance. It wasn't what he had been planning to act like at this time, but given Russia's five-year-old behavior, he damn well deserved more than that.

"You know, I have heard funny things about Beijing's food from Japan…"

He was lightening the mood. Tactful. Wise. He understood the tension around them now and was trying to dissolve it. Or mock it. To test him, China scoffed, a mocking action. "Japan goes to foreign countries and takes pictures of their food. I trust his opinion on dining only slightly more than England's, aru." His response was a little laugh, complete with half-lidded eyes. Oh, he knew.

'_And what have we learned today? Not only does be bite, he's dangerous, and knows it, and smiles about it.' _

* * *

On Sunday night/Monday morning, 12:47 AM, _everyone's _awake writing fanfiction!

Well, no breathtaking kiss this chapter, but at least China's not running away and openly freaking out at Russia's advances anymore. He had to be schooled by Taiwan in Men Dating Men 101, though, (BTW, she calls him "gege", characters: 哥哥, meaning "big brother") and he still worries and frets a lot. And so he should. Jealous!Russia is pointlessly (and very) jealous and, if lacking his pipe, will threaten to knock you out with a fucking _stick._ Oh, and, much less important, but when China told Dalong "_Qing qu li bian, _(characters: 请去里面) he was saying "please go inside."

I included the conversation about lion dancing, _(wu shi, _characters: 舞狮) both as something for Russia and China to talk about/pass time as well as to showcase it. I think it's really fascinating, and if anyone wants to see a real lion dance, follow this link here. It takes about to three minutes for the dancers to get to the really impressive parts, though, just FYI, so be patient.

youtube(DOT)com(SLASH)watch?v=7m-SEdOKrE4


	4. Four

Argh, this took freakin' forever! I sat down with my laptop for days and just…couldn't write. That almost never happens. It sort of scared me. But now I'm back into the swing of things, and for all that work I came up with the longest chapter yet. Be grateful.

* * *

Russia had plagues. A lot of them.

Not plagues like England had had back in Medieval times (poor little fucker). That had been a plague of the body, and a painful and disgusting one at that. He had only one plague of the body, and that was the cold. Usually, that was the worst. But his other plagues, his mind and heart plagues, sometimes took the place of the cold. His heart was the sickest and hurt the most and it always had. There was one thing, one person on the earth that could cure these things: a cheerful, wise and quite adorable one by the name of Yao Wang.

One of the plagues was dreams. They'd been getting worse—…better?—in the past week or two, since he had begun to finally reach out and take what he wanted and needed, becoming more detailed, more memorable, more about the two of them. He loved the dreams about Yao, even loved how they haunted him for hours and days afterward and mocked him for not having the real thing. Each dream, in fact, was a plague on its own:

"_Ivan…uh, that is, Russia, I…would like to call you Ivan, aru."_

In his sleeping mind, Yao had been calling _him _by his real name first.

"_I'm sorry if I disturbed you. Honestly. But that movie…scared me so much—can I sleep with you?"_

He was also as averse to public affection in his dreams as he probably was in real life—except when scared, and then he tended to cling, and Ivan held him eagerly.

"_Mm…Ivan, please—aahhn!" _

That one was a favorite. He probably thought about it a little too much.

"_S-S-S-Stupid cold-d. Ivan, k-keep me warm, p-please?"_

Russia loved to hold his Yao. He would wake up from these types of dreams shivering and aching because his arms were empty of that warmth.

"_I'm trying to read, Ivan. Hey! Give it back, aru! Give it back! Ivan! Ahh—get off—"_

He loved these types of dreams the best: when Yao's attention was on something else, and Russia always flawlessly succeeded in pointing it back towards himself where it belonged, proving that nothing mattered to Yao more than he did. He woke up from these types of dreams and for a single, sweet moment, believed in them.

'_I'm so sick of this.' _Russia thought to himself, turning his head in his pillow to look out at the moon. _'I'm so sick of wishing and dreaming and hurting.'_

He saw Yao in his head, centuries his senior, his better, sitting there smiling, or holding a panda bear, or reading, his hair so smooth, so dark, his face boyish and handsome, his pale hand held in Russia's own, his body tenderly encompassed by Russia's own. All of him, Russia's own.

His hand found a bottle he'd emptied the night before and gripped it till it was near to cracking. _'No. Keep waiting. The reward is everything I've ever wanted.' _

* * *

America snapped his fingers. "Got it. He's a child of the corn."

"Please. Just stop talking."

"What? China's not telling us anything! We have to assume the worst unless we know the truth, excluding the Anti-Christ and that creepin' kid from The Grudge, 'cause his little sister is either one or both of those—"

China sat in a chair nearby, grinning a little, sipping from a bottle of _xue bi _and glad he hadn't been dragged into the conversation yet. Honestly, he didn't want to answer; it was only a matter of time before they asked and didn't want to lie unless it were truly necessary…but thinking about it made him shiver and worry, and wish he could run away from it like the first time it reared up in his face. If he could sit here and ignore the whole matter for a minute, just a minute or so, that would be wonderful.

Then France got in his face, slamming his hands down on both the armrests and leaning his face much closer than needed. "_Monsieur Chine, _either you tell us what went on when Russia came to your house, or we assume 'everything in the world that can be done with ropes, pipes and naked men—"

That was quite enough. "Fine! Just please give me a bit of space!" France did so and put his hands on his hips, making a bit more of a feminine, silly figure than America or England, who stood staring and tense as though his next remark would come alive and eat them.

That last thought did nothing to help soothe him. He drew a quick breath to steady himself, and told the story of Russia's visit last night, from his sprinting across his _wu shi _costume display room to give China a strangling hug, to his nearly cracking Li Xiang's head open with a bamboo stick, to his later awkward attempts at reading Chinese street signs and trying to ask a waiter in a restaurant for dumplings and instead asking for sleep ("Haha! Nice." blurted America.) and to the last leg of the visit, after hours of touring the city, in which China had driven Russia to the airport and said goodbye to him. Russia had given him a kiss on the forehead and said something in his mother tongue before turning and leaving; China was careful to give only slightly more than minimal information on that so as to make it seem insignificant in comparison to the guy who'd almost rear-ended him on the drive back home.

But these were the old Allies he was talking to. Insignificant details were usually the most important for them. Or just the only ones. France curled his fingers over his chin and cocked his head, looking more thoughtful than most believed he could be. "I've heard from Hungary that Russia doesn't exactly give gentle kisses. Also, the last time you were in a car together, apparently he—"

"He kissed me on the forehead." China interrupted, perfectly smooth and unruffled. "A kiss on the forehead, _'da svidaniya, malen'kii _Yao_,' _and he went on his way."

"_Da svidaniya _means goodbye." England said stiffly, like a poem forcibly memorized. "I'm sure of that. _Malen'kii. _What's a _malen'kii?_ America, take out your iPhone, check it on Google Translate. I'm guessing it's some term of endearment. If he calls you by name, any number of other titles could be next."

"It sort of is a term of endearment, aru." China confirmed. "_Malen'kii _is derived from _malo; _it means little."

England stared. "You know Russian?"

"Of course I know Russian." he scoffed back. He suddenly wondered why had been so hospitable as to let these blockheads into his house. They'd be making airplanes out of his calligraphy paper next. "He's been my geographical neighbor for a pretty long time, aru. Somewhere along the line I thought it'd be useful to know his language. I could have sworn I told you this sometime during World War II. I want to say it was winter of—"

"Little Yao!" France gushed, putting all serious conversation to a halt. "Ohhh, _c'est mignon!_"

"It's less _c'est-_whatever when you realize who we're talking about, fucking idiot!" England gave his rival a less-than-friendly shove in the ribs. "He can call China 'Jesus' for all the difference it makes. I came over here to discuss his safety!" At his old Asian comrade's blank face, England drew himself up like an angered cat and crossed his arms. "What? You think I'd like it if that monster chewed you up and spat you out? He obviously holds you in a higher favor than anyone else, but that doesn't guarantee gentle treatment. I don't want to see him hovering all over you all the time and one day see you're wearing a cast or something, it just—just no!"

When his old guardian had retreated several paces back to groan and hold his head in one palm, America leaned close to China and gave his own sentiments: "Just FYI, I think Russia really likes you, but he's, you know, kinda the devil, so nobody really knows if that makes you safe or not."

France appeared at his side, hands on his hips again. "Oh, and the first time you have sex with him," ("France, what the fuck?") "please tell me how it went, that is, if you can walk the day after; he's so very tall, he must have a—"

"What's that? _The doorbell?_" gasped China, standing up. "As a good host, I'd better to answer it immediately, aru!" He walked seemingly gaily out of the room, gladly allowing the fierce frown to take over his face once he was out of sight and the distance between him and them was sufficient.

What an outlandish, presumptuous thing to say, even for France! Only he would jump from a visit to a friend's house to homosexual intercourse. Just because Russia was a bit—somewhat—pleasant to talk to, cheerful and eager to hear about different cultures (all this when not in a black mood), he stood about as much chance as sharing China's bed as a camel did. Even if his mind _had _its missing few screws, there was still the near-insurmountable wall of his gender. China had learned to accept relationships between men a good many years ago. The fact that he, like any man of considerable power, had been given women and not men to take to his bed over the endless years was probably a factor in his trouble of applying it to himself.

But that was giving it too much thought. Russia could spout love confessions and force kisses on him till he tore his mouth to shreds; if he went too far, China would simply have to outright tell him that they would not be having sex. If he told Russia they would not be having sex, there was a chance he _would _tear his mouth to shreds. And other things. And people.

It was stressful being the object of affection to a person whose mind was missing a few pieces, whose very presence made his colleagues literally sweat. Worse still to admit to oneself that that person's company was not so bad.

* * *

The dream was an intriguing one: all seemed normal, all the people in his life that he knew acted as they would in the waking world, yet everyone who approached and spoke to him called him Zhou Yu. China knew his name as well as anyone else knew theirs, and requested that if the current speaker must call him by a "human name" to please use his true one, Yao. He told this to many people, and they all laughed and told him that he was acting funny, telling simply the best joke. China realized that they _knew_ his name was Yao, but they were trying to make him believe for some surreptitious purpose that his name was Zhou Yu, and the only reason everyone in the world would lie to him was—

"_Hey, China, wakey-wakey! Come on, it's two in the afternoon, I thought you rose with the sun, man, you should totally be awake by now! Or maybe you're with Russia again. That's cool too, just make sure he doesn't bite your tongue in half, 'kay? Anyway, I'm calling to tell you guys that the next Summit is this Sunday, and it's in Milan, which is in Italy if you didn't know, and I'm calling everybody to let them know 'cause Italy swallowed his phone or something and can't do it himself. It's in the City Hall at eleven in the morning, so don't be late. Bye!"_

Unfortunately, if it was two in the afternoon in the place America was calling from, it was two in the morning where China was, and he was most unappreciative of his cell phone ringing a foot away from his ear at such a time. He placed the phone in his nightstand drawer a in sharp, displeased movement before rolling over and returning to sleep.

* * *

The only reason China was just about the last one to arrive at the meeting was because he chose to dress differently for it, that is, more western. Instead of a more traditional Chinese outfit, or simply a military uniform, he found fairly dressy black pants, fitted white shirt and a black tie, as well as a casual red jacket for the cold (Taiwan had been telling him for a good decade now to wear western clothes to an international meting; he decided it was about time to try.).

On arriving, he observed that Russia was not present, not any of the Baltics, and began to worry, as the absence of them all could mean danger for three of them. But the meeting itself began then: it consisted mostly of America propagating his idea of taking the trash in the world's biggest, most crowded landfills, packing them into rockets and shooting them off into space. The other part of the meeting consisted of other nations (China himself, Austria, Norway, and an angry-and-drunk England) verbally and physically berating America and telling him that it was not at all feasible to waste tens of thousands of dollars, for even a single rocket, to do what a dump truck could do for ten dollars an hour.

The meeting was adjourned, and everyone mostly sat around waiting for the local lunch rush to die down and for the crowds in the restaurants to clear out. Most waited indoors somewhere, it still being cold enough for the frost on the ground to only just begin to melt.

For his own part, China was passing time by sitting on a smooth rock in a park near the City Hall, having his own hair tie snapped at him like a rubber band by his clingy brother. To keep his attacker from pestering him verbally, too, he snapped it right back. They were each keeping track of what the other managed to hit. He pulled the hair tie back on his thumb, aimed for right between his little brother's eyes, and let go. Korea flinched and yelped when it struck him under the nose.

"Lip! Or, no, no, actually, lip_s. _Multiple lips. Nggh, that hurt! My turn." Korea, reclining lazily on the rock, sat up slightly to aim, and the projectile his brother on the shoulder. (China said, "Shoulder, aru.") "Dang it, if your hair wasn't down, I totally would have hit you in the neck. You'd be all, 'Aaach, Korea, you damaged my trachea, aru!'"

"Well, my hair wouldn't be down if you didn't go around stealing my accessories," China scoffed. "That sounded more annoyed than I meant. Really, this is keeping my neck warm, aru."

His brother's coat scraped on the rock as he turned his torso. "Hey, I see Russia. He's got his Baltic slaves with him, too." China immediately turned to look, and thus missed his brother's grin. "No, more to the left. He's talking to a lady with a shopping bag, and she's holding up her watch. Asking for the time, probably."

It was perfectly normal for complete strangers to not be put off by Russia when he was in a good mood, so the woman's action of _not _of stiffening up with fear wasn't interesting. Russia's choice of clothing was, as it certainly wasn't his usual overcoat, which was one of perhaps ten outfits China had ever seen him wear over the course of some thousand years. It appeared to be a casual sweater, blue or black or some mixture thereof, with a collar that rose a few inches to cover some small portion of his neck. His scarf was still there, but looser, so as to allow the sweater's collar to be seen. It was quite a form-fitting sweater.

"Hmm." Korea rumbled. "Wish America was here to see him. Did you know America thinks Russia's fat? 'Cause obviously he's not. That guy owes me money now, and now he has to say to my face that Korea invented money."

The woman lifted her head from her watch to give Russia an answer, but it must have confused him, for he blinked and turned around to look at his Baltics, who stared back with the wide eyes of children expecting to be struck. The woman went on her way and Latvia's mouth could barely be seen moving, offering some solace for whatever answer it was that Russia didn't like. Russia's face couldn't be seen, but Latvia's act of shrinking even farther into the hood of his coat gave answer enough.

Lithuania pointed over the younger nation's shoulder towards China and Korea, and the four of them all turned to see the two Asians sitting peacefully on their rock. China waved, hoping the awkwardness of the movement could be blamed on cold stiffening his limbs. He saw Russia's face light up, saw him alter his path to come over to the rock with his wards shuffling a few meters behind.

"Your hair looks beautiful." he said before anything else. China allowed a moderate smile and couldn't help but look away.

"I know, he's so pretty, isn't he?" Korea gushed. He rolled over and lay now on his stomach, arms crossed loosely. "_Hyung, _does it bother you when people call you pretty, since that's a word for girls, mostly?"

For a moment China wished time could be turned back a century or two, when it would have been socially acceptable to openly punish someone for such a tactless and _irritating _remark, especially when he was obviously wearing men's clothes. "I suppose I don't mind it when the person speaking isn't mocking me, aru. I know you mean well when you say it," he said to Russia, "and I hope _you _mean well when you say it," he said with a little exaggerated frown to his brother, "but if someone like Prussia or perhaps France says it, it's annoying."

"Anything Prussia and France say is annoying," Russia replied, and then added, "Korea, may I speak to your brother alone, please?"

Korea pushed himself off the rock and began jogging away, his shoes crunching softly in the half-melted frost. "Don't give him back with a bunch of bite marks, okay? Japan, Japan, where are you! I need your looove!"

'_Could you leave with the atmosphere any more awkward?' _China attempted to channel, and looked back up at Russia completely unsure what to say.

"Your brother is very fun," Russia said, watching him jog down the street after his second brother. "Unfortunately, his request is meaningless. I probably would not listen to him if I desired to leave bite marks on you."

To mask his mental reply of, _'Then you don't care what my family thinks?' _China replied, "You know if you tell him that, he'll never shut up."

"I could guess. But I am not here for that. I am here to tell you goodbye."

"Goodb—what? Why?" Endless possibilities burst forth in his mind, first and foremost being the nation's Prime Minister had heard of his representation's affection for his neighbor and found it undesirable for his country.

China's surprise must have showed more than he thought, judging by the bright satisfaction on Russia's face. He sat down, smoothed a wrinkle out of his pants, and explained, "I would have been here at the meeting, but the electricity in my house went out last night, and the clocks were not reset correctly. You see, the Federal Assembly insists I go to Oymyakon, and begin the journey tomorrow. It is a little town far up in Siberia, even farther north than my own house. There have been some murders there, distressing the people, and I must for some reason go and assist the investigation efforts. I will be there a month at least, probably two. If I had known, I would have spent much more time with you," he added, suddenly quite despairing.

There was no room in which to reply; Russia went on: "I promise I would have. I—" He stopped, again suddenly, and looked at his knees, his hands sitting loose and ungloved on them. "I hate Oymyakon. It is so cold. The first time I went there as a child, I did not know it would be so terrible. I felt like my hands and feet froze to stone, and when I cried about it, tears froze onto my face. I wished the cold was alive so I could kill it."

Perhaps it was a mistake to be moved to compassion and act on it, but he did so anyway. "Perhaps if they have cell phone towers there, or any sort of usable phones, you could call me?" China offered. "I experience something odd every day, often due to Korea or America, aru. I could tell you a story or two every few days to take your mind off of it."

Russia turned his head almost ridiculously slowly to meet China's honest, gold eyes. "You mean that?"

"No, I'm stringing you along for dark amusement, aru."

Thankfully and contrary to popular opinion, Russia was not immune to sarcasm. He smiled, soft and warm and grateful as anything. "I would love that. I also would love to stay longer, but I was told to take the soonest train, and I think if I do exactly as my boss tells me, he may let me leave earlier. I must return home to pack my things, and leave."

"I wish you luck." China said.

Russia stood, and gestured for him to stand also. Once he did, he was enveloped in one of Russia's traditional vicious embraces. China recalled again the stark numbness from the Summit in Canada, and indeed felt the opposite of that now; still reeling somewhat from empathy he embraced Russia also. He felt the strength in Russia's arms struggling not to crush him, felt his cheek nuzzling fondly against his temple. "I will miss you, _malen'kii _Yao." A tightening of his arms. It hurt. "Will you miss me?"

Any more and his back would crack and tell Russia the pain he was giving. Before it could get any worse, China replied, "I suppose I will," and heard a little whimpering sort of sound from Russia that could have been either joyful or overwhelmed.

At that moment he was released from the bear-grip and made sure not to breathe too hard and make Russia feel bad. He spied Lithuania and Estonia's heads over Russia's shoulder, and the top inch or two of Latvia's, standing several meters down the path, waiting and watching anxiously. "Are the Baltics going with you?" China asked, worried, as taking them was probably unnecessary.

Russia turned around as though he didn't know they'd be standing there, said, "Oh," and then turned back. "I forgot they were here. They followed me."

Estonia was standing on the far left; the edge of his clenching fist was free from the blockade of Russia's shoulders, and the quiet resentment in the gesture was not unknown to China. Russia was lying, but for the sake of the Baltics, China would not let on that he knew. Instead, he said, "They would follow you to a place like Oymyakon? That's crazy! Even Latvia? Come on, if anyone in this world isn't built for a place like that, it's him. I could use a small, detailed hand like his in my _wu shi _display room for a month or two, if he can be spared."

Lithuania had laced his hands together and pressed the combined fingers to his heart twice, mouthing, "Thank you!" and Estonia was barely suppressing an intensely grateful grin. Russia cocked his head, watching China's face. "Hm. Latvia is a tiny, bony little thing, not a good body shape for such a climate. He is littler than even you. Perhaps…" He turned around. "Latvia. I will allow you to stay with Yao for the duration of this assignment, if you like."

Estonia's jabbing his 'brother' in the back suggestively was painfully obvious, but no one mentioned it. Latvia squeaked, "I would love that, sir! I will perform whatever tasks he asks of me!" He crossed through the invisible dome of Russia's control and stood behind China.

There was a pause, a faint shriek of something Japanese from a few blocks down. Russia raised his hands and gently held China's head between them. He pressed a familiar kiss to China's forehead. "_Da svidaniya, lyubov. _Lithuania, Estonia, come. We are going home to pack." With a last touch to China's hair, he turned and headed out of the park.

China and Latvia watched them till they turned the corner past the gate fence, and were lost in a crowd. Latvia stood waiting for a signal for about a minute, then, "I like him." Latvia took a step forward to visibly show his interest, to see if he'd truly heard right.

And China repeated: "I like him. Wow….Latvia, I must say goodbye to my family and probably to America, too, then would you like to get some lunch, aru?"

* * *

Well…this chapter contained no drool-worthy scenes (excluding China with his hair down, wearing a shirt and tie, and Russia in a sweater that shows "how not fat he is" :D) but gave you insight onto Russia's feelings, which haven't really been explored yet. However, it mostly was China deciding that he doesn't mind, even likes, Russia, though not enough to verbalize it in front of him, of course. He's still far from that. Oh, you remember in the beginning of the chapter when China was drinking a bottle of _xue bi _(characters: 雪碧)? Yeah. That's Chinese for Sprite. Lol.

To further your language knowledge, this chapter we have of course _malen'kii, _"little",(Cyrillic: маленький) which is some conjugated form of _malo _(Cyrillic: мало) and I don't actually think one of these two is applicable for every grammatical case, but I will stick with _malen'kii _until a Russian-speaker can clear it up for me and say when I should use which. Also, Russia says _lyubov, _(Cyrillic: любовь) which means "love." Excuse me while I quietly fangasm in my corner. Okay, I'm done.

And of lesser importance, France said _Monsieur Chine, _which, really, I shouldn't have to translate for you, and Korea says _hyung, _(Korean character: 형) which how a male addresses his older brother.

And of greater importance, the chapter is over. See you in the fifth.


	5. Five

Why, hello there, readers! I've got a chapter for you that you may or may not like, since it's less funny and more...sad. The brightest thing about this chapter is probably the minor mention of the Russian cartoon, "Vinnie Pukh," which as one can guess from the wording, is the Russian version of Winnie the Pooh. There are three episodes that I know of and all of them can be found with English subtitles on Youtube. Go watch them. They're diabetes-adorable.

And in great contrast to the cutesy statement above, beware the fact that **this chapter takes a dark turn **(hey, if you want a serious rendition of Russia's character and personality, this can't be avoided)**.** There's rather extensive talk of rape, death, and all the horrific things that can occur in between. Unfortunately realistic details below.

* * *

It had been a grand total of a day and half since China had rescued frail Latvia from being dragged with his guardians up to the freezing town of Oymyakon. This space of time included waving goodbye to Russia, hugging and then tearing free from a goodbye from Korea, Latvia bowing excessively and thanking China for "rescuing" him, eating lunch together in an Italian restaurant—China had not had Italian in a while and it was just time—chatting and napping for ten hours on a plane, driving in a taxi for another hour upon landing in China's homeland, and giving Latvia a tour of his home and the room he would be using as his own for the next month or so.

They were standing in the doorway of Latvia's room presently. China waited for him to ask something, to comment, to say the view from the window was nice. Latvia instead told him, "China…I've never felt so safe. Not in my entire life."

He had to grin a little; his humility had been drilled into him long ago and had pleasantly stuck there. "Ah, well, I couldn't let a kid like you go to a place like Oymyakon, aru, even in springtime. Their weather up there doesn't shoot up twenty degrees just because spring arrived, aru."

"That's not what I mean. It's not the cold I was dr-dreading..."

"Yes, Russia. Of course. I'm certainly not so infatuated with him that I would ignore what he may do to a little one like you." China said, so that Latvia didn't have to. He felt a foolish, selfish desire building up in him, and perhaps because he knew Latvia was much safer and happier here, he dared to ask. "Would he have been…meaner, in a colder place?"

"More dangerous is the phrase." China observed Latvia's shoulders press towards his head, his legs barely begin to shake. "H-He acts the same, but we must watch ourselves all the m-m-more. If it is very cold, he will get angry at us for the most trivial things…for forgetting to lock a door. For coughing when it's quiet."

'_He feels safe here. If he gets scared, I can console him, aru,' _was what China thought, knowing full well it wasn't right to potentially frighten him as he was just about to, but his curiosity was nearly too much. "What does he do when he is angry, Latvia? Even when we stuck by each other in Communist days, I only saw his wrath once, aru." Twice. But explanation of the second time would bring Latvia to tears if anything would. For the sake of fairness, he elaborated his single, open example. "We were eating together once, I want to say in late 'sixty-nine. Winter was beginning, aru. An official came in to tell him about Americans successfully putting their flag on the moon."

He paused to gauge the reaction he was getting. Latvia was still standing facing the room, but had his eyes positioned toward China. Listening. Curious.

"…He looked at the official for only a moment before screaming, screaming like a demon for the official to get out. He took his plate and threw it at him, across the entire room. The fellow wasn't fast enough to get out of the way."

Here he paused, aware that the next piece of the story could be too much for his listener, but Latvia was in the same position as before. Listening. "It hit him on the leg, hyperextending his—ah, bending his knee the wrong way. It made a sound like…like a little bridge cracking its beams. And Russia went over and slammed the door, and came back and sat down, aru…and I waited and watched him. A few minutes later he stood up and suggested we go outside to watch the snow fall. And he was smiling, just…just fine."

Outside, birds were chirping and enjoying the warmth of April that could not reach China and Latvia where they stood in quietude. It was clear Latvia did not have the strength to overcome that story with any of his own words.

"That was a while ago, though, and these are not such hateful, competitive times as those, aru. Now he is much better, and even better for us, he's not here," he added, aware Latvia needed to hear such a thing.

"Yes. He's not here." said little Latvia, and did not elaborate his own examples, China noted. "Could…could I possibly take a n-nap in here for an hour or so? I can help you make dinner once I'm awake again, it's-it's-it's just that I'm still feeling the jet lag."

China blinked and scoffed with a little grin. "The cook around here is me, aru. I cook for myself and my six servants. You can help if you like, but for your first night I think a batch of standard, hot dumplings would suit you well, and I hardly need assistance for that, aru. The window's lock is on the left side, if you'd like it open for a breeze. I'll see you later." He bowed briefly, accepted an awkward imitation from his guest, and left the door open a crack.

Truth be told, he was a little relieved to have Russia out of his hair for a day or so—the amount of time it would take him to get to Oymyakon by train and then car—and decided to get to making the dumplings early. In fact, he could make an entire hotpot in celebration of Latvia's first day at this "safe house." He'd like that.

* * *

Late late late late late late latelatelatelateLATE! China was late and Russia would probably _not _like that!

It had been a sunny and wonderful day with Latvia. He was overcome with awe and curiosity upon visiting the Forbidden City that morning, and commented on every colorful or tall or elegant or strange item that they passed. Rickshaws really caught his interest; once riding in one, China heard Latvia's laugh for the first time and wondered how long it had been since Latvia himself had heard it. When they had eaten out after, Latvia asked China to please order him some _jiu_ of some kind—one of five Chinese words he knew: alcohol—and China, conceding only once on this pleasant day, let him have one glass, and forced him to get milk afterward.

They were back at his home now, full, exhausted, smiling and in general enjoying the internal buzz of a day well spent. Latvia asked if he might perhaps watch a movie, and one of the servants, Meiying, took him upstairs to find one that would suit his taste. China himself headed up to his room thinking to do the same thing but stopped halfway up the stairs. And shivered.

'_Oh, _Tian_. The time difference. He's already been there half a day. Expecting me half a day.'_

China had sped up the second half of the stairs as though the monster _Nian _was behind him. He tore open the door to his room, found the number of the hotel Russia and his two charges were staying at, and punched the numbers on his cell phone like he meant to injure them.

Ring. Ring. Ring. The soft, clicking sound of someone picking up the phone. A sigh. A pause.

"Hhhel-hhello," came a literally chilled voice that was either Estonia's or Lithuania's.

Taking a chance, he replied, "Lithuania _xiansheng?_ Hello?"

"China?" came, thankfully, Lithuania's literally chilled voice. "Oh. Oh, thhh-th- thank goodness. You're just in time. Russia's…sss-seething. He left the room a minute ago and he could be back any se-second. You meant to talk to him, right? Because he mentioned yy-you only once today, and that could be j-just as meaningful as t-talking-g-g about you all day long—"

In the background, Estonia complained about something, and a television turned on, creating pleasant background noise.

Lithuania let the television fill in for his voice for a few moments and then picked up again. "He knows your n-n-number, China, so I don't know wh-why he wouldn't just call you, and I'm sorry but that frightens me a b-bit. If he were in a happier mood, h-he would just pester you and call and c-call till you answered. B-But he waited for you."

"So he's in a darker mood, I would assume," China replied awkwardly. "When he comes, tell him I called. He'll call back and I'll talk about something nice and happy, put him in a good mood, aru."

"Don't mention h-his work here, please. The crime here is worse than we thought and…and it's affecting him."

A perfect time for little Latvia to be out of the way. "What sort of crime is it, aru?"

"Rape. Of little girls. All of them below twelve." Lithuania's voice was dark and steady, and China's mouth parted in horror. "There's four men at least, doing it in gr-g-groups, and there are ten victims th-that we know of. One has been caught. R-Russia…Russia was told by both the mayor and the people of the town that he'll be granted full amnesty for punishing the men how-h-however he likes—oh. Russia, he's on the phone—" Lithuania's voice stopped short, and the volume of the television in the background dropped significantly.

Then: "Hello?" A normal, completely unruffled tone of voice (for Russia) as though he'd been interrupted folding his laundry. "Estonia, you may have the television volume up if you like. It doesn't bother me."

And with a slight increase in the volume of the television in the background, Russia spoke again. "I am sorry I wasn't here when you called. I know this sounds an odd excuse, and certainly gruesome, but I was busy gouging a man's eyes out. But I am sure you don't want to hear about that. Please tell me what you and Latvia have been doing. You have had a lot of fun, _da_?"

A forked path suddenly appeared: the choice of enlightening Russia with pleasant tales of his and Latvia's warm, happy escapades, possibly making Russia darkly resentful of their good mood or possibly thankful for Latvia's happiness, and also the choice of…of…

"I'll tell you everything we did once you tell me what you did," China chose to say. "Your upbringing has been dark, but that's no reason to pretend more dark things aren't happening to you today, aru. You should tell me what's happening, or it'll eat at you, endlessly." Maybe.

At first, Russia didn't say anything, and the other end of the phone was filled with the sounds of a nature documentary full of loudly-chirping birds. China began to regret his decision and wish he could turn back time, just a few moments—it would make the greatest difference to talk about something nice instead of _rape _for God's sake, and he should have known that—

"Do you really think that?" Russia asked eventually, his voice low. China had heard such voices directed at him before, voices that regarded his opinion as higher wisdom. He hoped he deserved such a pedestal.

"I do." he replied immediately.

He sighed slightly into the phone. "I trust your words. I will tell you." The volume of the background TV show went up slightly. "Did Lithuania tell you anything about what is going on in this town? Because I doubt he could capture the stark truth of things. This began with two little girls who were friends, and these girls didn't come home from school one day."

There was a creak and faint thuds of feet. Russia had either sat down or stood up. "They were found the night after, naked and with their genitals stuffed with metal rods. One of them lived long enough to say one of the men who stole them had brown hair with one streak dyed blonde, and then the blood loss at last took her, when her father had left the room to get her some water. He came back and she had died."

It wouldn't do to say nothing at this time. China had initiated this. He could not be the speechless one. "…How old were these girls, aru?"

"Nine. Both of them."

"This man deserves to die, aru."

"I agree. So I killed him."

China was then the speechless one. Five seconds later he was still speechless.

"Oh, I do not expect you to say anything. Remember, the governing forces here granted me very legal permission to deal with the criminals as I please. Even in such a remote place as this, people know I do not give second chances to the undeserving. And this is not the only crime, you see. Ten other girls of about the same age were stolen and found with their innocence torn from them. I was called here to aid in hunting the criminals who are tainting my homeland."

China gripped the headboard of his bed. Why did so many dark crimes throughout time have to take place in Russia's land?

"And I have found one of them already." Russia went on. "After the citizens suggested many methods to me, I chose to drive my thumbs into his eyes. I waited for a few minutes, so he could sit and feel that pain and contemplate his mistakes, and then shot him in the mouth. I was very angry, though, so I my hands shook and I missed. I had to reload the gun and shoot him again. I believe the people will have his body cremated."

"Russia…"

"Excuse me, but my request still stands."

"I—what?"

"I do not want you to revert to the neutral and distant 'Russia' ever again. It bothers me."

He had just killed a man, justly, and wanted only to be called by name? Fine. Fine. That was nothing. "_Ivan. _I'm glad you've said this to me…and I wish I could be there to help you—"

"Me too," said Russia forlornly. "I—I think it is selfish to want you near a place where such evil things are…are happening…but I cannot help it. I wish you were here anyway. If I could just hold you near me, or even seen you talking to me in person, anything, it would make me feel so happy. I would hate it here less."

China unconsciously put both hands on his phone. "That's so nice, aru. But you don't need me there." Russia interrupted with the word, "I," but he didn't have time to go any farther. "That you can tell this to me and not break down is itself a great strength. That you found one of these demons within a day of arriving shows how effective your investigation force is, aru. How many men do you think are a part of this crime?"

"There are three remaining at least. There was a single girl who we found alive after the first. Her name is Larisa, and she described each of the men in such detail that artists were able to draw individual profiles of them. She is a hero."

"Well, because of Larisa, these criminals will be caught and given what they deserve that much sooner. And you will be home that much sooner, yes?"

"_Da_." Another noise appeared in the background. It was a knock on the door. Russia said something in his own tongue instead of opening the door; the knocker then opened the door himself. He spoke both quietly and quickly, and through the troubles of translating fast talkers whose mouths were not near the phone, China was able to hear only the words for "now" and "find."

Russia barked something angrily and the television flipped off. He came back on the phone. "Yao, someone is bothering me with something he wants to call evidence, which seems like nothing but an excuse to put his stepbrother into jail. If I were not obligated to investigate every given clue, I would not leave you for something trivial and probably fabricated." China tried not to gulp, imagining the vicious glare the door-knocker was receiving. "I must go. Please, call again tomorrow night? I hope we can talk about something nice then."

It was a question, not a command. "Of course, my friend." China replied.

"Silly _lyubov._" Russia said in a way that was not silly at all. "Ah…goodbye."

China said goodbye and pressed the "end" button on his phone. He dropped it onto his bed and dropped his face into his palm. A habit he'd unwillingly picked up from America then surfaced; for once, it was appropriate.

"Fucking _God_…"

* * *

His dreams that night were awful…or was it just one dream? They could not even be pieced together; they were sharp, foggy clips of bears and wolves chasing prey down hills, red fireballs falling from the sky, water filling rooms and drowning terrified innocents, siblings being separated by child-stealers and other things that curled toes and churned stomachs. Just another side effect of talking about rape with Ivan Braginski.

Thankfully and like usual, China woke up with the sun, possibly cutting off even more awful dreams that could have haunted him were he to have slept in. He was grateful to raise and lower his arms in graceful _Tai qi _movements with Dalong, thinking purposefully of nothing but air, water, movement and the sun, fine things that had always existed, held the earth together, held him. He felt the slightest pinch in his chest when it was time to return to the literal business of life, starting with a visiting ambassador from Spain later in the morning and ending before bedtime with a phone conversation with Russia, which absolutely _had _to have positive subject matter, and if he didn't think of something, some seriously bad shit would go down, or so America would say.

Latvia was delighted to be left at the house to sniff around in China's personal library and ferret out and read the nation's oldest and newest romance novels—they agreed Russia never needed to know they both had and shared this interest—all day long (he ordered Guang to hide any and all alcoholic beverages just in case). He awaited the ambassador at the Beijing Airport and moved throughout town together, selecting various foods to export more heavily into Spain based on popularity trends in the West.

This took up much of the day, and by the time the ambassador left, China had time only to purchase a quick snack at a street vendor before rushing home. From there, he had less than an hour before Russia would be expecting him to call. This space of time was the one in which he was most conscious of the fact that he hadn't found something nice and sunny to talk about, so he started pacing his room, hoping to _Luo Tian _that something would come to him soon, right now, any second now, please, please please anything YES!

Perfect. He was ready. Russia would love it. The smiles this brought him—his real, genuine smiles not meant to make people start sweating—would help brighten whatever dark day he'd just experienced. China was smiling when he reached for his phone.

The phone rang for a longer period of time than it had before, but when it was picked up, Russia answered instead of Lithuania, and he was noticeably happier than last time. "Ah, good evening, _malen'kii _Yao," he said, and gave just enough pause for an interjection, so China interjected.

"_Privet, _Ivan." China said, adding a touch of casualness. "_U vas byl udachnyĭ den_?"

Instead of saying whether or not he had had a successful day as he was asked, Russia took in a sharp breath and exhaled in a few short bursts of pleasant laughter. "I haven't heard you speak _russkom _for so long…" he said; China heard the trailing-off voice of one who was busy remembering.

China laughed a little, too, and proceeded to tell his old friend that he'd this morning—well, a month ago, really, but no need to mention that—seen a video online, a Russian cartoon he'd found just adorable, and he wondered if Russia—excuse him, Ivan—had seen as well. "_Pomnish' Vinni Pukh?_"

The responding gasp was one of a child spying a wrapped present. "Vinnie Pukh, the little bear—ah, no, I mean the _malen'kii medved!_"

The conversation was tactfully then all about Vinnie Pukh and how the both of them found it childishly adorable, and wasn't _Krolik _just so silly and hospitable, and poor _Eeyor_, getting a broken balloon and a pot for his birthday! That'd just…suck. (Russia was highly amused that China knew the Russian version of that phrase). He had just asked if China knew any other languages, such as Polish, because he'd been wanting to tell off Poland for a few months now, but just then some noise occurred on Russia's end of the phone and China was left staring stupidly into space when he heard what sounded like hurried, high-pitched Russian for, "They are here!"

More people entered the room and made noise; Estonia gave a sudden cry and there was a sound suggesting he had just knocked something over (Russia groaned, "That just doubled our hotel bill, _Estonii_.") But then an unfamiliar woman came into the picture, saying something far too fast and urgent for China to catch. She and Russia argued back and forth and twice a gruff old man interrupted them. All China could manage to understand was that the woman desperately wanted Russia to go somewhere.

More and more noise and arguing went on; China stood there with the phone to his hair and his free hand motionlessly fisting his sleeve. At last there was a period of silence, a click, and, "There is good news, Yao. I will be going home tomorrow morning." China was about to say something positive about this when the woman broke in again. After more insisting, Russia came on the phone again to say, "Put Latvia on the first flight to Moscow tomorrow. The four of us will then drive home together. Also pray for me, please."

Pray? What in the world had he missed in all that fast talk? "What'll you need prayers for?" China asked in what he hoped was a gentle tone.

"I will be cutting throats tonight." Russia said unhappily. "And doing other bad things. I will enjoy it. I know I will, even though they're certainly awful things to do. I do not completely understand your country's religion so I do not know what god you will pray to, but please ask him to help me keep a hold of myself. I do not want to go home recalling these things happily. Please."

"Of course I will," China said passionately—tonight's sweet sleep would now be robbed from him because of worry for Russia, but what did that matter? "No matter what you're doing, imagine me standing beside you, aru. I'll be right there."

A dozen people and a room full of silence lie on the other side of the phone. Again, Russia broke the silence by speaking and said tearfully, "_Vy ochen' dobry. Ya tak lyublyu tebya._" China could not mind the silly compliment to his kindness and the mindless love confession for all the world. He could say those things a hundred times if it helped him.

"Go do whatever it is they're telling you," he said, in the comforting parent-voice his little siblings had memories of. "When tomorrow comes, you'll be free again and Oymyakon will be a much happier place, aru. Go on." It seemed he was going to; Russia hung up.

China flipped the phone shut and tossed it carelessly onto his bed. '_So much for having fun talking about Vinnie Pukh,' _he thought suddenly, and couldn't even smile. Russia's mind would be far from Vinnie Pukh tonight. If he was on the right track, China guessed that more, if not all, of the rapists in Oymyakon had been caught and it was now time for Russia to exact punishment on them. The invaders in his room had sounded very vehement in getting him to do this job quickly, and perhaps that was better.

But he'd asked China to fulfill a part of it, too, and there was no reason in the world why he shouldn't. Immediately he got down onto his knees and turned his mind to the moon and sun, to life, and that which watched over it all. _Qing bangzhu ta. Qing…_

Perhaps through prayer and perhaps through nothing but thinking about it a lot, an idea came to him. He could do more than sit on the floor and beg unseen gods for support. He'd China stood up and went briskly downstairs, to deliver to Latvia some good and bad news.

* * *

It was probable both he and Latvia had had nightmares the previous night, Latvia's consisting of the usual dark oppression his guardian showered him with in daily life, and China's own of everything that went on in America's disgusting movie _Hostel, _and his mind did not at all appreciate the cruel mockery and gore.

But here they were, heading right for the harbinger of such nightmares. Latvia and China sat next to each other on a plane to Moscow. They were set to land some two hours before Russia, Lithuania and Estonia were to arrive back there from Oymyakon. Latvia and China hadn't announced the fact that they'd be there at the airport to welcome them back.

Latvia had a little suitcase packed with things he'd acquired in China's land, such as the little stuffed dragon he'd acquired in the shopping district of Beijing, pebbles from the Great Wall, a video of lion dancing, and many others. He kept this in his lap and inspected his new things throughout the five-hour flight so that he would not be preoccupied with shaking himself into a seizure. China stared out the window and thought, and planned what he could say and do, and prepared for the worst. He prepared to _chi ku. _

They landed and wandered the airport and its little shops together, wasting time until Russia, Lithuania and Estonia's plane were set to land. By taking Latvia to a little bookstore where he could shuffle among the romance section, China was able to calm him down. He himself found a cheap copy of _Journey to the West _in Russian and tried to amuse himself by seeing how accurate the translation was.

But at last came the "Arrive" screens spread throughout the airport began to read "ten minutes till landing" regarding the plane they were waiting on. China and Latvia looked each other over, smiling a little. Their cheerful time together in China's Beijing home was done. "Stay behind this pillar, aru," China said as the doors to Gate 3C opened. "It'll be more surprising if they don't see us at first."

But they both peeked, however. Russia was the ninth person off the plane with his Baltic charges just behind him, and he wore a coat similar to his regular one but darker and unbuttoned. His scarf was very loose, and his eyes stared sleepily at the people in front of him. He looked tired, and that was all. China shivered.

The three walked past China and Latvia without even looking in their direction and headed mindlessly towards the baggage claim, unaware they were being stealthily followed. Suddenly Latvia hung back, possibly understanding China's plan or possibly out of pure fear. China went noiselessly forward without him and stopped at Russia's side, a foot or less out of his line of sight. Perfect.

"I can't wait for the workers to realize I actually want my suitcase back." China commented airily, and made a point of keeping his eyes casually on the baggage carousel as Russia stared at him completely dumbstruck.

"Hhow…here, what are you—doing—" Russia could hardly make sentences, his face was lighting up so. He took one of China's hands and squeezed it, and it was so nice and mild a squeeze China was, firstly, surprised, and secondly didn't mind.

"Delivering Latvia to you," he replied. "And offering my support as I said I would. I'm quite aware this is presumptuous of me to assume you'd want anyone around you at this time, but I think you could use it, aru. And if you do prefer being alone right now, just tell me so and I'll leave you be."

"No." The squeeze started to hurt. "No. Stay. Come to my house."

Just as planned. Latvia, and the others, would still be safe. And Russia would soon, hopefully, be calmed. "Fine, then. I suggest you take a nap first, aru. I kind of doubt you slept on the plane, and resting will do you good anyway."

Russia smiled his typical smile and said, "Yao, will you sleep with me?"

'_Iknewthiswasabadideaohlord—' _"You…mean lie on the same bed, lose consciousness and dream. That kind of sleep."

"Yes, silly. That is so presumptuous of you. Some other time, _da? _When I am not in such ruin?"

And here it came. China feigned surprised, feigned the fact that Russia still harboring dark feelings from the previous night was unexpected. "Hm? Why would you be in ruin?"

Swinging their hands a little, Russia replied, "I tore off a man's arm last night. With only my hands." He kept swinging. "I bit off another's fingers. I put a welding torch to another's face. Watched one drown in mud, which is very nasty. All the time, I imagined you beside me." He looked down and so missed the drop of sweat running down the side of China's head. "On the plane here, I…I kept thinking about it, and I think I almost hurt the waitress who served me a drink. Estonia says I almost did something very bad to her, and he sent her off to a different part of the cabin. I don't remember at all."

Well. This was the sort of thing he'd come over here to help. China pulled his hand free from Russia's grip with only a light tug and pushed it gently up through Russia's hair; he received a short, tired sigh in return and a look full of a sort of aching affection that he couldn't look away from. "That's the sort of thing I'm here to fix, aru."

Russia took his hand again. "That's so sweet of you. I need lots of fixing, Yao."

* * *

Oh, indeed he does.

Well. There's the whole Russia-has-to-deal-with-something-predictably-dark subplot, and I went _way _into the dark, I think. I think it's a justifiable thing, though. If you really want to write Russia's character, you can't ignore the fact that he's somewhat insane. Legitimately, dangerously insane. We fans think it's funny and cute but other Hetalia characters genuinely fear him and think he's dangerous. The fact that he readily tortures the rapists (an act I'd say they deserve, were they real people) of Oymyakon and comes out of it looking and sounding only marginally disquieted should testify this.

More into the story, this chapter is where you begin to see China really caring for Russia. Granted a lot of it is sympathy for the dark things he has to deal with up there, but that doesn't encompass it all. This makes Russia's sad little grey heart happy :)

For you language lesson this chapter, we've got "_xiansheng," _(Chinese characters: 先生) which China used to talk to Lithuania. This is a Chinese way of saying "mister." After that, China uses Russia's tongue to ask him, _U vas byl udachnyĭ den_? (Cyrillic: у вас был удачный день?) meaning something like "Did you have a good/successful day?" And later he asks Russia if he remembers the cartoon, Vinnie Pukh, "_Pomnish Vinnie Pukh_?" (Cyrillic: Помнишь Винни Пух) The last two, VP's name, are underlined because I don't know if they're right. Later, when praying for Russia's spirit to hold during the torture session, China says "_Qing bangzhu ta," _(Chinese characters: 请帮助他) meaning "please help him."

Lastly, deserving its own paragraph because I have to actually explain it: when China and Latvia are on the plane to the Moscow airport, China describes what he's about to do as "_chi ku" _(Chinese characters: 吃 苦). _Chi ku _is a Chinese saying, literally meaning "eat bitter." It can be translated as "swallow your pride," "grin and bear it" and other such things. It basically means to endure hardship to reach your goals.

Whew. See you next chapter, which I will try to make less…unhappy.


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